


London Calling

by MarcusRowland



Series: London Calling [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Characters Writing Fanfiction, F/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcusRowland/pseuds/MarcusRowland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The collapse of SHIELD leads to the release of a dangerous wizard, and problems in London for Buffy, Thor, and their friends. Spoilers for <i>Captain America: The Winter Soldier</i> and <i>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.</i>  Warning for occasional bad language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> There isn’t much fanfic about Thor, Jane, and their associates with a London setting, even though a lot of _Thor: The Dark World_ takes place there. Similarly, there could stand to be more Buffy fanfic with a British setting, since the Watcher's Council was supposed to be based there. Since I live in London I decided to write some. All characters belong to their respective creators, megacorporations of doom, etc., not me. I’m ignoring all post _BtVS_ S7 / _Angel_ S5 comics canon etc. and sticking closely to Marvel canon. Spoilers, right from the start, for _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ and _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._
> 
> This should be posted fairly quickly, I've already written nearly all of it, but since it's moderately long I've decided to post a chapter a day, one for each day of the story.

“Okay,” said Buffy Summers. “I’m still a little jet lagged, I guess. Let’s just have a quick reality check. Is this Bizarro-world? Or the world without shrimp?”

“Nope,” said Dawn, “unfortunately not.”

“How the hell did the government… our government… screw up like this?”

“Your government,” said Giles, emphasising the ‘your,’ “let HYDRA gain control of SHIELD. When that fell apart there was a review of all cases in which SHIELD and other covert agencies had arranged imprisonment, which unfortunately included Ethan Rayne. And since all of the evidence and most of the paperwork went down with the Initiative, which turns out to have been at least partially controlled by HYDRA… well, they really had no alternative to releasing him and repatriating him to Britain – I’m only surprised they didn’t give him compensation, but I gather that he didn’t make a good impression on the review board. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that Agent Finn belatedly heard about it and let us know.”

“Only a week too late,” Buffy grumbled.

“Don’t exaggerate, it’s only been five days. Dawn, perhaps you could summarise recent developments?”

“While Buffy was snoozing her way across the Atlantic we’ve been trying to trace his movements, but he’d already hit the magic stores for basic supplies. Looks like he started off with a concealment spell, so we can’t track him magically unless he starts messing with the mojo big-time. Vi’s coordinating with the Devon coven, they’re trying to run a track and trace every couple of hours, but there’s nothing so far.”

“Willow could have cracked his protection,” said Buffy, “but oh no, she had to go off on a dimensional road trip with Strange and Kennedy. I wish he hadn’t invited them this close to apocalypse season, we’re sure to need her by the end of May.”

“There wouldn’t have been another chance for years,” said Dawn, “the alignments have to be right, and the trip ought to give her a lot of new skills. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“I guess.”

“You know, Buffy, pouting kinda worked for you when you were thirteen, now you’re thirty-three it just looks silly.”

“That’s right, make your sister feel old. You’re not exactly Miss Teen USA yourself, Doctor Summers.”

“Yeah, I got taller and graduated. Unlike some people.”

Giles began to polish his glasses and said “Getting back on topic, there’s still Ethan to deal with. Knowing him, he’s planning to unleash some form of chaos, and he’ll probably guess that we’re looking for him. If he knows anything about Willow’s current power level – and it’s fairly common knowledge in the community – he’ll think that it’s only a matter of time before she breaks his concealment spell. I hope nobody has let slip that she’s currently unavailable. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll strike at the earliest opportunity, and probably in Britain because his remaining resources are here. Though I doubt he has much, I’m reasonably sure that the old Council seized his assets, especially the magical ones, after the Initiative captured him. But we need to stay focused and stop him before he does anything catastrophic.”

“So how do we do that?”

“Watch out for anything out of the ordinary and try to work out his game plan, as we would for any other threat.”

“So… correct me if I’m wrong, I’ve spent how much time in London? Six weeks?”

“Seven, I think. Though as I recall it felt considerably longer.”

“And wasn’t that like, let’s see, eight years ago?”

“Six.”

“Whatever. The point I’m making is that I wouldn’t know where to start now, I’ve been back in the USA so long I’ve forgotten what tea tastes like. Meanwhile Dawn’s based in Cambridge, that’s only a few miles away, you’ve got slayers here who actually know the area, the Devon coven knows the magical scene and, oh yes, you were his best friend. What the hell do you need me for?”

“If it’s as bad as I suspect, to stop me killing the bugger when we catch up with him. Or help me if I have to.”

“Oh…” said Buffy. “Okay, that kinda makes sense. Meanwhile I’d better go out and do some research, I guess.”

“You’re volunteering to do research? Bloody hell…”

“Hey, I need to find out where the good shops are these days. And while I’m poking around doing that, you never know what else might turn up. Coming, Dawn?”

“Actually,” said Dawn, “Unless we get more of a lead on Ethan there really isn’t much for me to do here.”

“Go on then,” said Giles. “Leave me to do the paperwork while you indulge in rampant consumerism. But take your phones, and for goodness sake make sure that they’re actually switched on this time.”

Dawn pecked him on the cheek and said “Come on, Buffy, let’s hit the shops.” The sisters hurried out.

“The earth is doomed,” Giles said fondly, and turned back to his files.

* * * * *

“The way I see it,” said Darcy Lewis, carefully lowering herself into an armchair with the aid of a walking stick; “You’re the heroine here, I’m the wacky comedy sidekick. You got to visit Asgard and kick ass, the most excitement in my life recently has been breaking my ankle tripping over fucking power cables.”

Jane looked up from her laptop. “Next time maybe you should tape them down properly. Anyway, it’s sprained, not broken.”

“Still hurts like a fucker.”

“Wait a minute… _You’re_ the wacky comedy sidekick?” asked Ian Boothby, bringing in mugs of coffee. “I thought I was. What does that make me, then?”

“My minion, of course.”

“But he is not small and yellow,” said Thor, following Ian in from the kitchen with more mugs and a plate of cookies, “and he has two eyes and speaks English. And I have not noticed an especial love of bananas.”

Darcy grabbed a cookie and grinned at Thor. He was Jane’s, of course, but he was wearing form-fitting jeans and a tight shirt that really showed his muscles, and she appreciated the eye candy.

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” said Ian. “Which reminds me…” he rummaged through his pockets and eventually produced a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Darcy.

“You asshole! What part of getting receipts in to me well before the end of the month are you having trouble with?”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “It’s for the van I hired to collect the meson resonator unit Middlesex University loaned us. I forgot April has thirty days, not thirty-one.”

“Well if… and I stress ‘if’… the university accounts guys haven’t already printed the checks you might be okay, otherwise it’ll have to wait for me to make a special claim, that’ll take about a week.”

“Okay. If you could give it a shot, I could really do with the money, I have to renew my license by May the ninth. Reminds me, anyone got plans for the bank holiday?”

“Bank holiday?” asked Darcy.

“First Monday in May is a public holiday in Britain,” said Ian, who was used to explaining things to the non-Brits. “Public buildings and banks are closed. People take the weekend off too if they can, relax a bit.”

“Cool!”

“Didn’t we have the high energy physics lab booked for Monday?” asked Jane.

“No, that’s Wednesday,” said Darcy, “that must be why they said we couldn’t have Monday.”

“Is there aught we should do on this holiday?” asked Thor, taking his third cookie. “What are the traditions of your people?”

“Depends on what the weather’s like,” said Ian. “Sports, drinking, funfairs, that sort of thing. Or just chill out if it’s raining or something, have a day off. But the forecast says it’s going to be warm.”

“What about you?” asked Darcy.

“That was what I was going to say. There’s a canal boat festival, I’m lending a hand with that.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in boats,” said Jane.

“He lives on one,” said Darcy, “It’s kinda like a trailer, only narrower and damper.”

“It’s cheaper than renting a flat,” said Ian, “But I have to pay a license fee every few months, and move it every couple of weeks or they start charging mooring fees, and that gets expensive fast.”

“So what happens at this festival?” asked Jane.

“Oh, they get lots of boats from all over the country, and a few from overseas, people come to see them. And there’s a bit of a market, lots of food and drink stalls, barbecues – Thor ought to like it. And there’s usually a puppet show and games and rides for the kiddies, singers and musicians, that sort of thing. It raises money for the charity that looks after the canals.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Darcy, “where is it?”

“Little Venice,” said Ian, “that’s a big canal junction near Paddington Station. You could get there easily, even with your ankle hurt. Why not come over? I’ll show you round. Or you could spend the weekend on my boat, I’ll be moored there.”

“Not a good idea. Thor would hit his head on the ceiling every time he stood up, and last time I was there I got seasick just sitting on your sofa-bed. Which, incidentally, felt like it was stuffed with small boulders.”

“It’s much better when it’s opened out.”

“No it isn… um… I’ll take your word for it. Okay, which is the best day?” Darcy and Ian both looked shifty for a moment, but Jane and Thor didn’t seem to notice her slip.

“Saturday’s probably best, it gets really crowded Sunday and Monday. But don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not a huge event. Maybe thirty or forty thousand people visit it over the three days, but not all at the same time.”

“Okay,” said Darcy. “You guys coming too? Jane? Thor?”

“It might be nice if the weather’s good,” said Jane.

“Then I shall see that it is,” said Thor.

“Just for the three days,” Ian said hastily, “we don’t want a drought!”

**TBC**


	2. Thursday

“Kensington Church Street next,” said Dawn, looking at her check-list, “there are a couple of antique shops there that occasionally handle magical artefacts; they’re pretty expensive, but it’s just possible Ethan might buy something. We might as well walk, it isn’t far, and the traffic’s really snarled up today.”

“Okay.” They walked together in silence for several minutes, then Buffy said “Okay, I’ve got to ask. What happened to what’s his name? Your boyfriend? You haven’t mentioned him once since I got into town.”

“I haven’t got one.”

“Sure you have, you spent a fortune calling him the last time you were in Cleveland.”

“That was four years ago, Buffy, I broke up with him a year later, you really weren’t paying attention. Pretty sure I mentioned it.”

“Three years ago? How the hell did that happen?”

“You were busy in Cleveland, I was busy in Cambridge, and he had to transfer to Sheffield University. We just drifted apart, I guess neither of us was ready for commitment. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault.”

“And since then?”

“I’ve had a few dates, nothing serious. Don’t worry, the gossip mill hasn’t let you down, there just hasn’t been any juicy news.”

“Crud,” said Buffy. “I’ve been having no luck lately, I was hoping that you were getting some. One of us should have a life that isn’t all work.”

“Don’t worry, sooner or later someone’ll come along. For both of us.”

“I guess.”

“Here’s Kensington Church Street. Let’s hope Ethan’s been buying from the shops along here, my feet are killing me.”

“I don’t think ‘buy’ necessarily comes into it,” Buffy said five minutes later, looking across the road. There were two police cars parked outside an antiques shop named Musgrave & Sons, and a photographer was taking pictures of a smashed window. “That’s on the list, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Musgrave’s a nice guy, but he has a sideline in magical artefacts, and he’s not always careful enough about who he sells them to. I’ve had to speak firmly a couple of times.”

“We need to speak to him, but with the police there…”

“I’ve got some ID that ought to do the trick, but we need to get rid of your shopping first, the police won’t buy it with half a dozen Harrods bags. We’ll head back to the hotel and maybe you can change into something that looks more like… well, smart business clothes… then see what we can find out.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“They won’t buy an insurance investigator wearing leather trousers, trust me on that...”

* * * * *

_“In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape the power of this fully armed and operational battle station.” Vader scowled at the viewscreen, watching the Yellow Lantern Corps starfighters approach and waiting for the perfect moment to..._ Darcy stopped, deleted everything after ‘ _approach_ ’ and added a period, then typed _He turned to his young padawan and said “Before they attack, I have something to tell you. Lex, I am your_

“How’s the new grant application coming along?” asked Jane.

Darcy clicked back to the other file she was working on, and said “I’ve got the technical and financial side of it done, I’m just trying to think of a better way to phrase the justification than ‘we saved your asses at Greenwich, now give us the money we need to carry on with our potentially catastrophic experiments.’ I think the Health and Safety risks assessment might need some work too.”

“This was a lot easier when SHIELD was funding us.”

“Sure. If you forget about Greenwich and New York and New Mexico, and the giant crater, and the whole thing about them secretly being Nazis, which I totally could have told you when they stole my iPod…”

“Yes, yes, I get the point. Well, obviously we’re trying to prevent further problems.”

“We need more than that as a Health and Safety policy,” said Darcy.

“I was thinking of it more as justification for the research.”

“Hey, nice one. Yeah, I can work with that. Defending the Earth from the scum of the universe… Then there’s trade and stuff.”

“Just don’t suggest anything that sounds like aliens coming to Earth to take jobs in Britain,” said Ian, who was soldering a repair to one of their sensor units. “You can imagine the headlines in the _Daily Express_ – ‘Dark Elves Steal British Jobs – Housing Prices Rise.’ Come to think of it, I think that was pretty much their headline after Greenwich.”

“Hey, political scientist here, I know that stuff. Anyway, we need to get some input from Thor on trade,” said Darcy, “make sure we aren’t committing to anything his dad wouldn’t like. Where is he anyway?”

“He had a call from Captain America this morning,” said Jane, “they’re meeting up in France to take out a Hydra base.”

“Do the French know about that?”

“If they didn’t, they probably do by now.”

* * * * *

“Before we go in,” said Dawn, “I’d better mention that Musgrave is an Ano-Movic demon passing for human. Nice guy, but you’ll get the demonic vibe off him.”

“Okay, they’re usually pretty harmless. You’d better talk to the cops, I’m no good with officials.”

“Okay.” They crossed the road, and Dawn handed a policemen a card from one of the Council’s cover organisations, a real insurance company specialising in antiques. “Global Insurance, we’re here about the robbery. Any chance we can have a word with Mister Musgrave?”

He spoke to his sergeant, then held the police tape up to let them duck underneath.

“Good afternoon,” said Dawn, 

“Miss Summers,” said Musgrave, smiling as they entered. He looked like a balding man in his forties, wearing a smart business suit, but Buffy's senses were tingling with a demonic presence. “That was fast. And this is…?”

“Also Miss Summers,” said Buffy. “I’m visiting from the Cleveland office. Any questions?”

Musgrave flinched slightly but said “I’m glad to see you’re taking this seriously.” He glanced meaningfully towards a forensics technician who was working in the window, and said “With the taxes we pay, you’d think they could put more security cameras on the street.”

“What happened?”

“All I know is that I’d locked the shop for five minutes to go upstairs to the loo, and while I was there someone smashed the window. By the time I got back into the shop everything on that table was gone. The police say a witness saw someone smash the window with a hammer and bundle everything into a car, then drive off. If you’d like to come back into my office, I have pictures of everything that was stolen.”

“So what’s the real story,” said Dawn, once they had a little more privacy. “What’s gone missing? And what would we have said if we’d known you had it?”

“I don’t think you would have cared,” said Musgrave, “all I had there was some Greek and Roman household gods and icons. Very valuable, but no intrinsic magical powers, about what you’d expect for gods that haven’t been worshipped seriously in a couple of thousand years. As for what’s missing…” He turned the screen of his computer so that they could see a white bust. “First, a small marble bust of Pallas Athena. About eight inches high, carved marble. But the condition is suspect, I think it’s a nineteenth century fake, so I doubt the thief was after that.” He clicked the mouse, showing a badly pitted bronze statue. “Zeus throwing a thunderbolt, circa 170 BC, that one’s about a foot high. But if you look here you can see that the thunderbolt and hand aren’t original, they probably came from another statue; the hand is out of scale with the rest of the body, and the articulation of the wrist is completely wrong. It looks deformed.”

“I don’t think you’d want to invoke Zeus with that one,” said Dawn, “he might get a bit upset.”

The next picture was a badly weathered marble tablet, with figures that looked vaguely like a man and a woman flanking steps leading up to a door. “Next we have a Roman altar tablet, probably someone’s household gods. About eighteen inches wide and a foot high. Believed to show Vesta and a male god, nobody’s entirely sure which one. It could be Janus, god of doorways, though he’s usually depicted with two faces. That one’s probably authentic, but someone stored it where it was exposed to rain, it’s badly weathered..”

“Janus fits in with a wizard we’re trying to find, but the rest of it’s a little vague. What else went missing?”

“Another Greek figure, this time of Poseidon.” A marble statue of a bearded god holding a trident. “About a foot tall, probably fourth century BC. Good work of its type, but derivative. ”

He showed them another statue, a woman with a bow and arrows, obviously hunting something. “Now, this was the most valuable piece. Diana the Huntress, a first century bronze, in beautiful condition, about two feet high. Valued at seventy-two thousand pounds.”

“Seventy-two _thousand_?” Buffy repeated. “More than a hundred thousand dollars? Why wasn’t it in a safe or a bank vault?”

“It goes in the safe at night, of course, but you can’t sell items like that if nobody knows you have them. It would be worth considerably more if it were just a little older. Now, if you look at her belt you may notice something interesting.” He zoomed in.

“That looks like a stake,” said Buffy.

“There’s reason to believe that Romans aware of the supernatural associated Diana with… well, with your vocation.”

“Cool!”

“Finally, we have some less sophisticated work.” The screen showed three figures carved from grey stone. “More Roman gods, found in Wales so probably from around the first to third century AD. Neptune, Liber, and Ceres, the gods of the sea, wine, and the harvest. All about nine inches tall and carved from local rock. I’d imagine they were from a merchant’s home.”

“Okay,” said Dawn. “Can you give me copies of the pictures?”

“Of course.” Musgrave dug in his desk, found a memory stick, and started to copy the files to it.

“What do you think, Dawn?” Buffy asked.

“All of them could be used in invocation rituals, I guess, none of them are especially chaotic. Except maybe Liber, he’s the Roman equivalent of Bacchus or Dionysus. Can’t see any of the others really appealing to Ethan.”

“Ethan?” said Musgrave. “Would that be Ethan Rayne?”

“You know him?” asked Buffy.

“Know of him. I’ve never met him, but he’s owed us two hundred and fifty guineas since ninety-eight.”

“What for?”

Musgrave shrugged. “He bought a spell book, the cheque bounced. When my father went round to his flat it was locked, the landlord said he was out of the country. The next time he checked there was a new tenant there, with no forwarding address.”

“Which book was it?” asked Dawn.

“I’d have to check the ledgers, but I think it was something about Meso-American ritual magic.”

“Probably the spell he used for the Band Candy,” Dawn said to Buffy. “A lot of Mayan rituals involve chocolate.”

“You think he’s the one that robbed me?”

“It’s possible.”

Musgrave’s face momentarily shifted to his true red angular demonic form, then back to human. “If you catch up with him let me know.”

* * * * *

Steve Rogers raised three fingers, then two, then one. On one Thor threw Mjolnir at the door of the warehouse, smashing it off its hinges, Steve threw his shield to ricochet off a chimney stack and knock out one of the guards on the roof, and Sam Wilson swooped down out of the sun to kick the other guard in the back; he fell off the roof and landed in a dumpster. Steve ran forward and grabbed the guard’s Uzi, while Sam retrieved the shield, tossed it to Steve, and circled round to the back of the building.

Mjolnir flew back to Thor’s hand and he strode forward into a hail of bullets, which pinged off the hammer and his armour. Steve caught the shield and ran to the left, jumping up and through an upper window, shot one of the guards he found there, and threw his shield at another. Meanwhile Sam used a thermite charge to burn through the back door’s lock and walked in. Everyone’s attention was focused on the front of the building, and he began to work his way forward, using a dart gun to take out the personnel as he found them. A minute or so later it was all over, with most of the guards unconscious, three badly injured. Steve and Thor handcuffed them, and Sam did some quick first aid then found a clean face mask and checked out the elaborate laboratory that took up most of the ground floor. Steve called for support, and a minute later gendarmes and two ambulances arrived to remove the prisoners.

“Okay,” said Sam. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Might as well start with the bad,” said Steve.

“I’m pretty sure these guys aren’t HYDRA after all, or not directly anyway. No weird flags, no uniforms, no cells or torture chambers, no dart-boards with your face or Fury’s as the target, no incriminating documents I can find.”

“So what the hell is all this?”

“Well, I’m not exactly an expert, all I know is what I’ve seen on _Breaking Bad_ , but I’m guessing it’s a meth lab, a big one. I’m also guessing we’re damned lucky we didn’t blow the place up during the fight.”

“What is meth?” asked Thor.

“A drug,” said Sam, “very addictive, the chemicals you use to make it are toxic and can be explosive. We should check if there’s anything else that combination of ingredients can be used for, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.”

“Banner would know,” said Steve. “Give him a call. Meanwhile I’d better tell the gendarmes their hot tip was wrong, and we’ll need a chemical clean up crew. Probably a gang making trouble for their rivals.”

“Disappointing,” said Thor.

“Well, it’s not HYDRA but this was worth doing,” said Steve.

“Tell that to the guy I kicked into the dumpster,” said Sam, “I think his leg’s broken in three places.”

**TBC**


	3. Friday

“The police have found the car used in the robbery,” said Giles. “Ethan abandoned it in the short-stay parking area at Westfield shopping centre yesterday evening. That’s only a couple of miles from the shop. The car-park operators were going to clamp it but they noticed that it had been hot-wired and called the police. When they searched it they found the hammer and one of the missing pieces.”

“It’s definitely Ethan?” asked Dawn.

“There’s security camera footage,” said Giles. “Unfortunately it simply shows him waving at the camera then leaving. There are four underground stations and a dozen or so bus stops in easy walking distance, and we don’t have the time or resources to check his movements from there. He could be anywhere in the country by now.”

“He won’t be,” said Buffy. “He probably knows you’re here, and he couldn’t resist a chance to show off again. Waving at the camera? Who else would even recognize him?”

“What about the police?” asked Dawn.

“They’re looking for him, of course, but I wouldn’t hold out too much hope. As far as they’re concerned he’s simply someone who stole some statues, not a murderer or a terrorist.”

“With Ethan that may just be a matter of time,” said Buffy. Giles winced but didn’t argue.

“Which of the pieces did they find?” asked Dawn.

“The altar tablet. The others are still missing.”

“That makes sense, it’s probably the least useful for invoking the gods. And that marble slab looked heavy, he wouldn’t want to carry it unnecessarily.”

“I’ve got the coven seers scrying for magical hotspots,” said Giles, “but there are always a few around London so it can be a little tricky. Some of the known sites like the British Library’s Black Vault, our own secure storage, and the pedestrian crossing in Abbey Road put out so much power that it’s difficult to detect the new ones.”

“I get the vault and the storage, but Abbey Road?” asked Buffy.

“Every year thousands of people travel thousands of miles to visit Abbey Road and have their pictures taken on the crossing the Beatles used. People have been injured in the process, a few have been killed, though fortunately nobody has died on the crossing itself. If you think of it as a pilgrimage and an act of worship, even sacrifice, it should be obvious that it’s a location with considerable magical significance. Fortunately Ethan doesn’t seem to have stolen anything that might easily be used to manipulate that reservoir of power; if he’d stolen a bust of Apollo, for example, or anything else related to music, I would be seriously worried.”

“Graceland is like that too,” said Dawn, “though in that cult the major act of worship is Elvis impersonation.”

“I think we’re straying from the point,” said Giles. “The coven will continue to monitor London for magical activity, but the only new activity they’ve detected in the last couple of days are weather spells, and that’s probably just people wanting nice weather for the bank holiday weekend.”

“Can you get a location on that?” asked Buffy.

“Not really; spells for good weather affect a huge area, they have to interact with the natural climate and weather cycle. It’s not as localised a spell as summoning a quick hail-storm or a thunderbolt, so it’s much harder to home in on the source.” 

“I’ll bet he is planning something for the holiday,” said Buffy. “It’s kinda like Labor Day, isn’t it? Anything happening on Monday that he might target?”

“Most of the political protests were yesterday,” said Giles. “Didn’t you notice?”

“That was why we had so much trouble with the traffic,” said Dawn, “Big political march in the West End and Whitehall.”

“So what about Monday?” asked Buffy. “Any big football games, baseball, anything like that?”

“Baseball?” Giles said incredulously. “I hardly think so. And it’s too early for cricket. But the the Football League play-off finals are at Wembley Stadium over the weekend.”

“We need to cover that.”

“We have slayers in place for all three days; large crowds of football fans tend to attract our undead friends, especially after the pubs close. But you make a good point, I’ll arrange for magical cover too.”

“Wait a minute,” said Dawn. “Anything going on that involves horses?”

“There’s racing on Saturday and Monday, but I don’t think anything particularly close to London,” said Giles. “Why horses?”

“Oooh! I know, I know!”

“Yes, Buffy?”

“The Greek guy… the guy with the trident…”

“Poseidon?”

“Yeah, him. Doesn’t he have a thing for horses?”

Giles gaped at her. “How on earth did you know that?”

“I saw a Percy Jackson film on the plane, he had cool sea-horsey-monstery things.”

“Hippokampos, I’d imagine. Yes, you’re quite right. Poseidon was the god of the sea, and for some reason horses. There’s also a similar connection with Neptune, though less strong.”

“So are there any races?” asked Dawn.

“Well, Kempton Park is the closest racecourse to central London, I think,” said Giles. “But that’s nearly twenty miles out. I know that’s not a lot by American standards, but on British roads on a bank holiday weekend it might take an hour or more to get there.”

“Better check if there’s any races there.”

Dawn got out her iPad and ran a quick search. “No races, but there is an event there on Monday, their ‘Bank Holiday Family Fun Day.’ Pony rides and games and a petting zoo and so forth.”

“Ethan likes to target kids,” said Buffy. “Remember wacky Halloween fun time?”

“Definitely worth checking,” said Giles. “Well done, both of you, it’s good to see that a knowledge of popular culture isn’t entirely useless.”

“Not to mention my degree,” said Dawn.

“Yes, yes. Now, we need to see if there are any other connections between all of the gods Ethan stole and events over the next few days. For example, with Liber and Ceres in the mix we’d better check if there are any wine or beer festivals on over the weekend. For Diana, I don’t believe that there are any hunts in and around London, but what about archery contests, that sort of thing…?”

* * * * *

“What is this show anyway?” asked Jane, watching the BBC crew prepare for the next shot. “I wasn’t really listening properly when you and Darcy explained it.”

“ _Blue Peter_?” said Ian. “It’s a magazine show for kids. It’s the oldest children’s TV show in the world, been on the BBC since the nineteen-fifties. Over the years everyone’s been on it; the Queen, Madonna, Johnny Storm, Doctor Who.”

“Which one?” asked Jane.

“Most of them from Hartnell onwards,” said Darcy. “Most of the monsters too. And they raise a ton of money for charity, a couple of million a year. You remember the YouTube clip I showed you, the black and white TV show with the baby elephant? That’s _Blue Peter_.”

“Quiet please, everyone,” said the first assistant director. One of the crew showed a clapper board to the camera, and the director said “Take seven! Action!”

The young Asian presenter smiled at the camera and said “We’re here at London Zoo tonight to see their latest exhibit; their first animal from another world, which somehow found its way to Earth when the Dark Elves invaded Greenwich. And we’re very lucky to be joined by none other than Prince Thor of Asgard, who’s going to tell us all about it.” She turned to Thor, who was in his Asgardian armour, and added “Prince Thor, welcome to _Blue Peter_.”

“Thank you, it is good to be here.”

“Prince Thor, we’re really not sure what to call this creature. What can you tell us about it?”

Thor gestured towards a huge steel-barred cage behind them, where a slate-grey creature, about twenty feet long with powerful legs, scaly skin, and a barbed tail was gnawing a tyre. “It is a creature of Jotunheim, the realm of the Jotun, the frost giants. I do not know what the frost giants call them; they are a little like the bilgesnipe of my realm, but larger. They are very dangerous when they are fully grown.”

“Fully grown? How big do they get?”

“At least three times this size. This is a mere infant.”

“Wow! Imagine that. What’s it like where they live?”

“It is a land of ice and snow. These creatures hunt in the wilderness. Often they bury themselves in the ice and sleep for many months, until they feel vibrations as something ventures close. Then they break free of the ice and attack.”

“What do they eat?”

“They eat other beasts like themselves, and anything else that is worth the effort of hunting. Often Jotun, or so it is said. The giants send their young warriors to hunt them; those that survive are considered adults.”

“That sounds very dangerous,” said the presenter.

“It is a harsh world, the Jotun must be harsh to survive.”

Behind them the creature spat out chunks of tyre and roared loudly, then hurled itself at the bars. There was a deafening clang.

“If he’s going to get as big as you say, won’t that cage be too small?”

“When it is fully grown no cage could hold it. It cannot remain on Midgard, and I have sent a message to Asgard, asking that they negotiate its return to Jotunheim.”

“Will that happen soon?”

“I am still waiting to hear. Asgard and Jotunheim recently warred, so it will probably take some time and diplomacy. And the Jotun may not want it back!”

“Now, our viewers have sent in hundreds of questions for you, we picked three that seemed especially interesting. First, from Alicia Cummings of Luton: ‘What is your hammer made of?’”

“That is a good question.” Thor raised Mjolnir, and it glinted dully under the lights. “It is Uru, the Dwarven metal, forged from the hearts of suns. My Lady Jane tells me that those learned in your sciences believe that it is a mixture of strange matter and neutronium, but I know little of such matters. It is responsive to my will, and may only be lifted by those who are truly worthy to wield it.”

“Our next question comes from Kim Roberts of Newcastle: ‘Will you be joining the Avengers again?”

“Another good question! There would need to be good reason for us to assemble again, another threat to this world, but yes, should the need arise I will be there.”

“Finally, Mark Jones of Wigan asks: ‘What do you like best about Earth?’”

“Many things! Pop tarts, coffee, pizza, cat videos, your ingenious machines, and the Avengers. But most of all my beloved Lady Jane!”

“That’s awesome! Now, before you go, we like to give all our guests a _Blue Peter_ badge. The usual one is blue, to show that you’ve been on the show, but there’s a special badge that we only give to guests who have shown unusual courage. Prince Thor, please accept this gold _Blue Peter_ badge from everyone on the show, as thanks for your defence of London and New York.”

“It is my honour to accept!” Thor took the badge, seemed slightly at a loss as to how to fix it to his costume, then pinned it to his cloak just above the left shoulder clasp. “I will treasure it!”

“Thank you, Prince Thor of Asgard.”

“And cut!” shouted the director. “Thanks, Prince Thor, that looked really good, I don’t think we’ll need to do another take, we can cut that together with some of the animal shots we got earlier.”

An assistant removed a small radio microphone that had been concealed under a fold of Thor’s cloak, and said “Someone should be sending you a _Blue Peter_ identity card to go with the badge, you can use it for free entry to Alton Towers and a couple of hundred other sites around the UK.”

“When will you be showing the interview?” asked Darcy.

“Probably next weekend, Sunday the eleventh at noon. I’ll email you once we’ve finalised the episode.”

“Excellent!”

Thor concentrated for a moment, and his armour vanished, replaced by the street clothing he preferred for everyday wear. Somehow the badge was pinned to the shoulder of his t-shirt.

As they walked back to Jane’s car Thor shifted the badge to his chest, and said “I do not think this badge is real gold, perhaps they have been deceived.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Ian. “It’s symbolic. Wear it with pride, they don’t give them out very often. Everyone in Britain knows what it means.”

* * * * *

“Okay,” said Buffy, “we’ve got all adult slayers in Britain on yellow alert from now until Tuesday morning. The youngsters are on alert too in the London area, and everyone’s been sent pictures. If they see him they’re to track and report, not engage. And emphasise that everyone needs to pace themselves and get enough rest, and keep an eye open for anything odd that doesn’t seem to be related to this; for all we know Ethan is setting up some sort of diversion to distract us from something else, maybe a big bad, the way he did with the band candy. If he is we’ll have to up the alert level. Agreed?”

“Are you sure yellow alert is sufficient?” asked Giles. “I do think everyone should be taking this seriously.”

“Definitely. We have no real reason to think he’s working for anyone else, and on his own Ethan’s not an apocalypse-level threat, he’s… help me out here, Dawn.”

“He’s not like Loki or even Doctor Doom, he’s like that guy that keeps trying to kill Spiderman. Green something… Green Goblin, that’s it. Dangerous and a nuisance, but not high on the world-endage stakes.” 

“I bow to your superior knowledge of the tabloids,” said Giles. “I suppose you’re right. He hasn’t really had time to catch up with old contacts, and most of them are long gone anyway. And it’s not as if we’re on a Hellmouth here, the closest is the one in Bergen, he’d find it difficult to do anything truly apocalyptic.”

“Best case,” said Buffy, “Ethan tries a spell and we detect it early, we find the site and catch him before it does much damage, fadeout to happy ending. Worst case, people are hurt or die first, which isn’t my favourite scenario. But knowing Ethan he’ll try to be funny before he’s lethal.”

“Then we’d better be very sure we reach him fast. I think we have that covered, so why don’t we all try to get an early night? It’s going to be a long weekend.”

* * * * *

“Okay,” said Ian, “I’m heading back to the boat. See you all tomorrow. You probably don’t want to come by car, parking is a pain there over the holiday, but if you take any Hammersmith train from Farringdon and get off at Paddington, the exit from that part of the station is on the canal side. Give me a call when you leave and I’ll be waiting for you at the station.”

“I’ll come down with you,” said Darcy, “you can give me a lift to the pub, give these two a bit of privacy.”

“It’s only a couple of hundred yards,” said Ian.

“Still limping, remember?”

“Okay… right, the pub.”

“Don’t wait up for me, Jane,” said Darcy, “I’ve got my key, see you in the morning.”

“Do you think Darcy and Ian know that we know they’re sleeping together?” Jane asked once they’d gone.

“If all that they do is sleep,” said Thor, “then why would they hide it?”

“You remember what I told you about euphemisms?”

“I remember most things,” said Thor, starting to unbutton her blouse. “Perhaps we should be ‘sleeping together’ too.”

“Mmmm… works for me.”

He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom.

**TBC**

And, because I could...

And the _Blue Peter_ elephant incident: 


	4. Saturday

“Have you actually been to bed at all?” Buffy asked Giles, sitting on a corner of his desk and helping herself to a Garibaldi biscuit from a plate that sat next to the cold remains of a cup of tea.

“Well… not as such. I’ve been finalising arrangements and coordinating with the teams in the field.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. You seem to have half the slayers in London thinking the apocalypse is coming. The rest think you’re gearing up for surprise inspections. News flash… they’re getting upset, you might want to turn it down a notch or two.”

“I keep thinking there’s something we’re missing.”

“Maybe, but you’re not gonna find it if you’re too tired to think properly.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Get to bed for a few hours, Dawn and I will hold things down.”

“But Buffy…”

“Bed. Or do you want me to carry you and tuck you in?”

“Damn. All right, but for goodness sake call me if there’s any sign of Ethan.”

* * * * *

“Find anything interesting?” asked Darcy.

Jane looked up from the table of old ornaments she was examining, and said “I found some astronomy magazines on the book table, but they’re way out of date. Apart from that, there are some old watches and a sextant, but they’re probably not very accurate.”

“They’re there to look nice, if you need scientific accuracy get something electronic.”

“I guess. I’ve found a couple of things my mother might like, so this isn’t a complete waste of time.”

“I’m kinda enjoying myself,” said Darcy, “and I think Thor’s loving it.”

“I think Thor thinks the boats are quaint,” said Jane, gesturing towards the barges and narrow-boats moored along the canal. “I don’t think he realises just how cramped they’d be if he tried to live in one.”

“We’ll get him aboard Ian’s boat later, by the time he’s hit his head a couple of times he’ll get the idea. We’d better get back to the guys, make sure that Thor isn’t breaking anything.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Go ahead, you won’t be telling him anything he doesn’t know.”

Jane paid for an old Russian pilot’s watch with a half-dozen dials, then she and Darcy walked back along the canal-side, dodging a group of children running towards some rides and a bouncy castle. A narrow-boat festooned with flags chugged along the canal and into the triangular basin that was the centre of the event; over loudspeakers an unseen master of ceremonies gave its name and said something about its history as it circled a small island then headed west along the Grand Union Canal.

“It’s certainly busy enough,” said Jane. “I guess Ian’s charity must be doing well. Where are they anyway?”

“By that stand,” said Darcy, pointing with her walking stick. She didn’t really need it any more, but there were a few uneven patches around the canal and she didn’t want to take any chances.

“These pieces of sausage are excellent,” said Thor, stuffing another handful into his mouth. “But why are they so small?”

“Actually, they’re samples,” said Ian. “You’re supposed to taste them and buy packs of the ones you like.”

“They are all good,” said Thor, smiling at the woman in charge of the table. “It is difficult to choose.”

“That’s all right,” she said. “They’re there to be eaten. Though it’d be nice to have some left for our other customers, of course. Have a think about it while you’re enjoying yourself, and come back and get some later. Or order them on line, we’ve got a web site, and a lot more recipes that we couldn’t bring today.”

“I’ll help you with an order,” said Darcy, smiling apologetically at the vendor, “and make sure you don’t buy so many we have to get another fridge.”

“There’s a sausage of the week club if you’re interested, we send members a packet every week, a different flavour every time.”

“Cool. Okay, we’re definitely coming back here, but I want to see the boats and things first.”

“And then we can get a proper meal and some beer,” said Ian.

“Works for me,” said Jane.

* * * * *

The phone rang just after one.

_“Doctor Giles, several intense magical sources have just appeared in central London.”_

“Giles is taking a break,” said Buffy, “Dawn and I are holding down his desk for now. Let me just switch to speaker… okay, what have you got?”

_“Several magical sources in the Paddington area. Someone from the coven is emailing me a map, I’ll copy it to you… We’ve got five sources. The first one was near the BBC studios in Maida Vale, followed a minute or so later by another close to Edgware Road Station. A minute after that, Durham Terrace in Bayswater, then Hamilton Close, St. John’s Wood. Finally, Brook Mews near Lancaster Gate tube station. The locations form a rough circle about a mile across.”_

“Dawn, any thoughts?”

Dawn looked up from her iPad and said “Try linking them in the order they activated, first to last.”

_“Yes… yes, that’s definitely got to mean something. The lines form a pentacle.”_

“Not exactly subtle. What’s at the centre of the pentacle? Looks like a fork in a river? Can’t make it out at this scale.”

“The canal basin at Little Venice. That’s next to and north of Paddington Station.”

Buffy pulled on her leather jacket and slung a long leather case over her shoulder. “Is anything happening there today?”

_“Just a moment… Yes, there’s some sort of canal festival there. The Canalway Cavalcade.”_

“Okay, get teams to each point of the pentacle, see if you can find the sources of the magic, but watch out for traps. We’ll head for the canal basin.”

_“I’ll let you know if there are any developments.”_

“Get Giles.”

* * * * *

Thor downed his fifth pint of Theakston’s Old Peculiar and said “Another!”

“Are you sure?” asked Darcy. “That stuff’s stronger than the beer we got in Puente Antiguo.”

“It is mild compared to the ales of Asgard. Or even the makers of boilers I drank in your land.”

“Your funeral. This stuff sneaks up on you.” She waved to Ian, who was queuing in front of the beer tent, and shouted “make that three more!”

“Three?” said Jane.

“Another for me, of course.”

“I am not nursing you through another hangover.”

“I’m a big girl, I’ll look after myself.” She turned to Thor and added “You did a good job with the weather, big guy.”

“There was little need,” said Thor. “I began a weather working, then sensed that another had the matter in hand, and let it be.”

“Someone was controlling the weather?” asked Jane.

“What of it? Some wizard, perhaps, or one of the mutants of which your _Bugle_ speaks. It is no great matter.”

“It would be fascinating to study the process.”

Thor looked distracted for a moment, then said “You may yet get that chance. I sense another working beginning.”

“Someone modifying the weather again?”

“Mayhap… but why?”

“Actually,” said Ian, “it does look a little choppy out there.” He pointed to the canal basin, where dozens of boats were rocking gently at their moorings. “The water ought to be calm in this weather.” There were waves a few inches high, appearing and disappearing randomly, stronger than the ripples raised by the boats.

“It’s a canal,” said Jane, “the water isn’t flowing anywhere much, and there’s no wind, why would there be waves?”

* * * * *

“If I’m to die in this car,” said Giles, “I promise you that I will come back and haunt you. That was a red light, Dawn!”

“It was changing,” said Dawn, swerving her Mini Countryman across two lanes.

“And to think,” said Buffy, “he used to complain about my driving. I was never this bad!”

“You mean you were never this good.”

“Watch out for that truck!”

Dawn deftly avoided it and swerved around two roundabouts then tried to turn onto a side street, realised that it was closed to traffic, and took the next turn instead. “Okay, the canal basin’s on the left, you two bail, I’ll park and catch up with you.” She screeched to a halt, and Buffy and Giles climbed out.

“Okay,” said Buffy, “can’t see anything too weird. Let’s get down there.” They crossed a small terrace and went down steps to a lawn; to their right was a large plastic pool, thirty feet wide and a few inches deep, in which children were playing inside giant inflatable plastic bubbles, to their left a juggler was entertaining a small crowd. “Huh, no chainsaws.”

“Not everyone has your talents.”

“No, but… ooh, over there, ice cream!”

“We’re not here for that,” said Giles. “I can feel something happening… but where is the bastard?”

“Well,” said an amplified voice, “we don’t usually have water as choppy as this for the cavalcade, there may be a short delay before the next boat takes the circuit.”

“That’s gotta be it,” said Buffy. “It’ll be Ethan, using one of the sea gods.”

“Bloody wonderful.”

* * * * *

“Someone has bespelled the waters,” said Thor. “Mayhap they mean some harm to yon boats.”

“It seems a little unlikely,” said Jane. “Why bother?”

“It smacks of mischief, if my brother were alive he would be the first I would suspect.”

“You know you guys were worshipped as gods,” said Darcy, “maybe it’s someone who worshipped him, trying to cause trouble.”

“Mayhap.” He concentrated for a moment, and several miles away Mjolnir flew from the bench in Jane’s roof garden where he had left it, and hurtled high across the city. “The waves are getting higher, before long they will be over the banks. You must seek higher ground. I will search for the sorcerer.”

“Okay,” said Darcy. “C’mon Jane, Ian, let’s get out of Dodge before there’s a stampede.”

“All right,” said Jane, “We haven’t got any instruments with us anyway, we can’t really observe the phenomena.”

Someone shouted, and they looked towards the water, where the waves were raging higher and racing around the canal basin, barges rocking and tugging at their moorings, and a strong wind was rising.

“Let’s go.”

* * * * *

Dawn found a parking space and ran back towards the canal. People were starting to retreat from the water, and as she went down the steps from street level she dodged past a group of tourists only to cannon into “Ian?”

“Bloody hell, Dawn Summers!”

“Friend of yours?” asked Darcy.

“We used to date,” said Dawn.

“Riiiight.”

“We need to get out of here,” said Ian, looking uncomfortable, “there’s something weird happening.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Dawn, “kinda why I’m here. Catch you later!” She ran on towards the canal.

“Wait a minute,” said Darcy, “was that your psycho ex from Cambridge, the one who believed in magic and told horror stories about her mad sister and California?”

“Um… yes.”

“You never said she was that attractive.”

“Umm…”

Darcy punched him in the arm, moderately hard, and said “Asshole.”

* * * * *

“He’s definitely unleashed one of the water gods,” shouted Giles, “Poseidon or Neptune.” He put his hands to his temples for a moment, and added “Whatever he’s doing, he’s put a lot of power into the spell, people could get hurt.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know… there’s something else going on, really powerful, it’s confusing everything.”

“You mean like that?” She pointed left to an area with tables and chairs, where a tall blond man was standing, one hand raised. Something plummeted from the sky into his hand, and his casual clothes transformed into armour and a rippling cloak. A bolt of lightning flashed down from the sky to the hammer he was holding. He strode towards the water’s edge and began to throw bolts of lightning into the water.

“Oh, bloody hell. Yes, that would probably do it.”

“Holy crap.”

“What the hell is that asshole doing?” shouted Dawn, finally catching up with them.

“That’s not an asshole, it’s Thor,” said Buffy, almost squealing with excitement. “ _The_ Thor, the Avenger.”

“He’s making things worse!”

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, let’s go talk to him.”

* * * * *

As Ian led Darcy and Jane towards the stairs to the street, Darcy grabbed his arm and said “Hold it, I don’t like the look of that.”

“What?”

“Those guys.” She pointed to a group of men trying to get down the stairs against the movement of the crowd. All wore the same grey outfits, like a cross between motorcycle clothing and body armour, with bulky-looking boots and equipment belts and webbing, and open-face helmets with microphones. “Last time I saw that uniform, SHIELD agents were wearing it.”

One of the men pointed at them, and the group began to work towards them.

“I thought SHIELD was…” Ian began, then the penny dropped. “Fuck, head back towards Thor!”

“Come on, Jane!” Darcy grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled her with her, and they began to run back the way they’d come.

* * * * *

“You have to stop!” shouted Giles, “You’re making the storm worse!”

“Stay back, I will destroy this evil magic,” Thor said, ignoring Giles’ request.

“Hey Thor, nice hammer!” shouted Buffy, reaching into the case on her shoulder and pulling out a gleaming red metal axe, the misnamed Slayer Scythe. “Mine’s sharper!”

Thor turned towards her, lightning still flashing from Mjolnir. “Small woman, do you challenge Thor?”

“Ixnay on the allsmay!” said Dawn.

Buffy smiled, ducked and rolled under the lightning, and smashed the flat of the scythe against Thor’s ass. He looked down, confused, and the lightning stopped.

“That will not hurt me, foolish woman.”

“Want to bet?” Buffy casually swung the axe through a steel railing, leaving mirror-sharp cut ends. “This weapon was made to kill gods. Want me to use it on you?”

“What do you want, woman?”

“Just listen to us. This isn’t going to stop the waves. Tell him, Dawn.”

“Someone’s causing this by invoking a water god, Neptune or Poseidon.”

“Poseidon,” said Giles, “they found the Neptune statue at Edgware Road.”

“Okay, Poseidon. He’s a god of the sea, and he hates the lightning god of his pantheon. You’re just making him angrier.”

“Then how do we stop this?”

“Ideally a ritual sacrifice, but…”

Darcy, Jane and Ian ran back, chased by the uniformed men.

“It’s Hydra,” shouted Darcy, “I think they’re after Jane.”

Thor bellowed with rage and ran towards them, raising Mjolnir and throwing it at the nearest agent. He went down hard, sliding back nearly twenty feet, 

“Hydra?” said Buffy. Something feral and ancient showed in her eyes.

“Yeah.” said Dawn.

“Get to cover.” Buffy began to spin the Scythe and ran towards them, passing Ian, Jane, and Darcy.

“Ian, over here,” shouted Dawn, “use the tables for cover.” She threw one of the metal tables on its side and ducked down behind it.

“Take shelter,” said Thor, catching Mjolnir and throwing it again, while Buffy took on two of the Hydra agents and knocked weapons out of their hands as fast as they drew them, and the remaining members of the crowd scurried for shelter or panicked.

Giles grabbed a red tomato-shaped sauce bottle from one of the tables and lobbed it towards the agents, shouted “Grenade!” then hastily ducked for cover, as did two Hydra agents. 

“No guns so far,” said Dawn. “What the hell are they playing at?”

“They’re after Jane, I think,” said Darcy, “they must want her alive.”

“Okay. By the way, I’m Dawn Summers, this is Giles, and that’s my sister Buffy with the axe.”

Mjolnir flew back to Thor’s hand, clipping another Hydra agent’s helmet on the way back, and lightning flashed out at the last men standing. In a moment they weren’t.

“Darcy Lewis.”

“Jane Foster.”

“Ian Boothby.”

“Knew that already,” Dawn and Darcy said almost in unison, then smiled at each other. Ian suddenly began to feel very worried.

“There have to be more of them around,” said Jane, “that small a group didn’t stand a chance against Thor.”

“They’re using a wizard as a distraction,” said Dawn, “must have thought you’d separate from Thor. Where is fucking Ethan anyway?”

“I know you now,” said Thor, shouldering Mjolnir. “You are the _vampyrjeger_ , the vampire hunter, I should have recognised the weapon. My apologies.”

“This isn’t over,” said Buffy, making sure that none of the Hydra agents would be regaining consciousness any time soon, “the storm’s getting worse and there are probably more of these assholes around.” By now several boats had broken from their moorings, and two had collided. One of them was starting to sink.

“Jane!” said Thor, and raced back to the tables.

“We’re OK,” Darcy shouted over the howling of the wind. “Worry about the storm, not us!”

“We need to find Ethan and smash the Poseidon statue, or find some other way to appease Poseidon,” said Giles, listening to someone over his phone.

“What about the other statues?” asked Dawn.

“Accounted for, apart from the statue of Diana, one at each point of the pentacle. Ethan messed up the concealment spell, it ought to have stopped us noticing the invocation of Poseidon. Instead it was like setting off flares to tell us he was here.”

“That doesn’t sound like Ethan,” said Dawn. “When did he ever mess up like that?”

“Who is this Ethan?” asked Thor, “a wizard?”

“A chaos mage.”

Thor looked grave. “The magic of chaos can be very powerful.”

“We’d noticed,” said Giles.

“We need a sacrifice,” said Dawn. “A horse.”

“Where the hell do we get a horse in the middle of London?” asked Buffy. “Also, ewww!”

“Doesn’t necessarily have to be a real one, a good symbolic representation would do.”

“Hey,” said Darcy, “would a toy do? There were a couple of My Little Ponies on one of the tables over there.” She pointed to the vendor tables on the other side of the canal.

“Too small.”

“The carousel,” shouted Jane, “there were horses on that!”

“I will fetch one,” said Thor, throwing Mjolnir into the air and flying behind it. He landed out of sight, a few hundred feet away.

“Hope he doesn’t break it,” said Giles, “we need it intact or it won’t be a valid sacrifice.”

“We’d better get further back from the water,” said Dawn, “the waves are going to be washing across this bank soon.”

“Head towards the beer tent,” said Ian, “it’s a couple of feet higher.”

Thor plummeted back down, a white carousel horse on his shoulder. “The owner of this beast was unhappy. We will have to pay for it.”

“I’ll take care of that later,” said Giles. “Remind me of the ritual, Dawn, any special tweaks?”

“The usual. Invoke the name, ask for his help, praise him, tell him what you want, and sacrifice the horse in his name.”

He turned to Darcy and said “Might I borrow your cane?”

“I guess so, my ankle’s not too bad now.”

“Thank you.”

Giles used the cane to mark a circle around the horse in the muddy ground, added Poseidon’s name in Greek, ‘Ποσειδῶν,’ and said “I’ll begin with Homer’s hymn to Poseidon then improvise. When I lower my hand decapitate the horse, then throw both parts into the canal.” He held up his hand and began to chant in Greek:

_“I sing of Poseidon, the great god, mover of the earth and fruitless sea, god of the deep who is also lord of Helicon and wide Aegea. A two-fold office the gods allotted you, O Shaker of the Earth, to be a tamer of horses and a saviour of ships!”_

_“Hail, Poseidon, Holder of the Earth, dark-haired lord! O blessed one, be kindly in heart and help those who voyage in ships!”_

_“Great Poseidon, I pray the grace of your help to end this storm, and offer this gift of a horse, for you are their master.”_

He sliced down with his hand, and Buffy swung the scythe; then she and Thor heaved the remains of the horse into the canal as Giles shouted:

_“So mote it be! Long live Poseidon, the god of the sea!”_

There was a final gust of wind, then the waves began to subside as the horse went under. Giles caught his breath for a moment, then said “We need to find Ethan quickly, or he might be able to persuade Poseidon that wasn’t a valid sacrifice.”

“I sense something,” said Thor. “Now that the storm has passed… there, on yon island!” He pointed out to the small island the boats had circled.

“That’s a bird sanctuary,” said Ian, “nobody ought to be there.”

Dawn groped in her bag, found a stick of eye liner, and quickly drew an eye on the back of each hand, then covered her eyes with her hands. After a moment the eyes she’d drawn glowed bright green, and she said “He’s there, under the tree on the left.”

“Give me a lift?” asked Buffy.

“Aye!” Thor grabbed her by the waist and they hurtled into the air, landing with a thump on the island.

“The tree to the left, Buffy,” shouted Dawn. “No, _your_ left. Thor, down just a bit…” There was a flash of lightning, then another. “Wow, that’s gotta hurt.”

On the island Buffy smashed something with the flat of the scythe, and suddenly they could see someone lying there.

“That’s a neat trick with the eyes,” said Darcy.

“I got the idea from _Doctor Who_ ,” said Dawn, “I could probably get better results if they were tattooed, but I only use that spell a couple of times a year.”

As they were talking a motorboat roared along the canal and into one of the gaps left by the boats that had broken free, and more uniformed men ran ashore.

“Fuck,” said Darcy.

“Give me a hand,” said Ian, and sprinted for the serving tables, where a few onlookers were still trying to work out what was going on. Darcy and Jane followed him, while Dawn helped Giles to his feet.

“What’s the plan?” asked Darcy.

“Donkey Kong!” Ian heaved at the chocks securing a stack of barrels, and some of them began to roll down the gentle slope towards the Hydra agents. He ran behind one that was refusing to roll and kicked it to start it moving, and was promptly knocked down by the next. Darcy and Jane pushed others, trying to aim them at gaps between the tables.

“You idiots,” shouted one of the onlookers, “those took days to settle.”

“Don’t blame us,” shouted Darcy, “blame fucking Hydra!”

“Hydra, is it? Right then…” One man grabbed a long spit rod from the barbecue, others cooking mallets, serving trays, and other improvised weapons.

Dawn grabbed one of the trays and flung it like a Frisbee; it bounced off one of the tables and ended up in a bush. “Captain America makes that look so easy.”

“I know,” said Darcy. “Of course he’s got muscles on his muscles. Almost as buff as Thor.”

“Someone want to give me a hand?” asked Ian, “I’m in pain here.”

“Did he use that line about his sofa-bed being more comfortable when it’s opened?” asked Dawn.

“Lame, isn’t it,” said Darcy, grabbing Ian’s arm and helping him up with a distinct lack of sympathy.

By now the Hydra agents were firing guns with glowing blue barrels. Blobs of blue liquid hung in the air then fell to the ground a few yards in front of Giles. Dawn glanced at him and wasn’t surprised to see him kneeling, his hands straining as though he was pushing at something invisible. She felt for the magic and added her own power to it. The next shot bounced back into the face of the man that fired it.

There was a clap of thunder, and the Hydra speedboat began to sink, Mjolnir-sized holes in its hull and engine. Then Thor and Buffy were in amongst the agents. Moments later the fight was over.

“Where’s Ethan?” said Giles, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“He’s out of it,” said Buffy, supporting him. “He wouldn’t stop chanting, Thor had to keep zapping him with lightning. He’s still alive, but I’m not sure he’ll stay that way.”

“What the hell was he thinking of? I can understand wanting a little chaos, but Hydra’s about as far from that as you can get. They’re fucking Nazis, for Christ’s sake.”

“They must have had some sort of hold on him,” said Buffy, trying to comfort him. “Maybe that’s why he screwed up so badly.”

“Maybe,” said Giles, less than convinced.

“There’s two kids floating on the canal in those bubbles,” said Dawn, “I hope someone’s going to rescue them.”

Police cars began to arrive, and the next few hours were filled with explanations and post-battle cleanup. Miraculously nobody other than Ethan and the Hydra agents was badly hurt, and they were soon evacuated under police guard.

“Might be an idea if you don’t go home until the police have checked it,” suggested Dawn.

“Oh great,” said Darcy, “what do you suggest?”

“I have guest rooms at my house in Bath,” said Giles, “you’re welcome to use them.”

“What if Hydra know where you live?”

“I’m sure they do,” said Buffy, “we were all on their death list. But we’re still here, and so far we’re okay.”

“It works for me,” said Jane. “And with Thor to look after us, I think we’ll probably be pretty safe.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note:** I wanted Thor to use the Norse equivalent of Buffy’s title and ran into problems, since there is no precise equivalent of vampires in Norse mythology. “Vampyrjeger” is the closest I could get, modern Norwegian for “vampire hunter.” It’s the title that is generally used when describing Buffy in the Norwegian translation of the show. Just to confuse things, the show’s actual title is _“Buffy, Vampyrenes Skrekk,”_ which translates literally as _“Buffy, the Terror of Vampires.”_
> 
> The first two paragraphs of the Hymn to Poseidon are genuine Homer, from a 1914 translation, the third is my own contribution, the last comes from a Wicca chant to invoke Poseidon I found on line.
> 
> I’m not a linguist - many thanks to members of the Livejournal Linguaphiles community for their help in getting these things right, and in persuading me that it would better not to put the entire verse into Google-translated Greek.
> 
> There really is a Canalway Cavalcade every year, pretty much as described (apart from the events I’ve added for this story). If you happen to be in London on the weekend of the first Monday in May it’s worth a visit. Here's a picture I took this year at roughly the time the action starts in this chapter:
> 
>  


	5. Sunday and Beyond

**Sunday**   


“Your friend’s lucky to be alive,” said the neurosurgeon. “We were going to start off with an MRI scan, then someone mentioned Hydra and Doctor Tompkins remembered some of the reports from America, so we put him into an electromagnetically-screened room and tested him with passive sensors first. Good thing too. The magnetic effects of an MRI scan would have probably detonated the power pack or ripped the entire mechanism out of his brain. It would have killed him either way.”

Giles stared at the X-ray of Ethan’s skull, and the devices embedded in and around his eye. “They must have wanted to be sure he couldn’t disobey them.”

“I’ve already told the police, it’ll probably make a big difference to the charges brought against him, whatever they are, if he was acting under duress.”

“I’d imagine so,” said Giles, “It’ll be interesting to hear his side of the story. Can you remove it?”

“Certainly. It’s tricky, but nothing like as bad as a deep brain tumour, though I’m afraid that he’ll probably have reduced vision in that eye, if we can save it at all. There may be some short term paralysis too. We’ll keep him under until we’ve operated, just to be on the safe side, but between the screening and the damage it must have taken from the lightning I doubt that it’s going to detonate.”

“What about the others, the men that attacked us?”

“No implants that we can find.”

“Willing agents, then. 

“It looks that way.”

“Keep me posted, and if you need any resources that aren’t available through the Health Service let me know.”

* * * * *

Ian Boothby woke slowly and painfully, realised that he was in a much larger and softer bed than usual, and remembered the events of the day before. Once they were finished with the police Buffy, Dawn, and some other women who seemed to be ready for trouble had hustled them to Paddington Station, and made sure that nobody tried anything en route to Bath. At the station two mini-buses drove the whole group out of town to a sprawling mansion, where Dawn found everyone rooms and organised a massive pizza delivery. He’d crashed out early, aided by the pain-killers he’d taken for his leg.

There was a low moan from under the mound of blankets to his left, and he said “Morning, Darcy.”

“Morning,” Darcy said from his right. He twisted round and found her sitting up in bed, looking at something on the screen of an iPad.

“Err… if you’re there, who’s that?”

“How much did you drink last night? Dawn, of course!” 

“Dawn? _Dawn??”_

“We decided you’d been pretty brave,” said Darcy, “and… well, we wanted to take your mind off your leg.”

“I don’t remember it at all,” said Ian, “and I can’t believe I agreed to it. It’s you I love now, not Dawn.”

“You bastard,” Dawn said sleepily from under the covers, “that’s not what you said last night.”

“I was out of my head on painkillers last night.” He scrambled away from Dawn, awkwardly climbing past Darcy, and started to pull his clothes on. “I can’t believe you took advantage of me like this.”

Dawn began to giggle, and in a moment Darcy joined in.

“And now you’re giggling about it, I can’t believe it!”

“Nothing happened,” said Dawn, sitting up to reveal that she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, “I’ve only been here about twenty minutes. We got to talking after you went to bed last night, compared a few notes.”

“And I wanted some payback for the bed thing,” said Darcy.

“And for calling me your psycho ex,” said Dawn.

“Really? Nothing happened?”

“Really,” said Darcy.

“Um… sorry, I suppose. I over-reacted.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“Not that I wasn’t flattered, of course,” said Ian, “and if you were to both ask me again when I wasn’t full of…oof!”

Simultaneously hit by two pillows, he grabbed his trousers and headed for the door, while Dawn and Darcy threw more pillows after him.

“I can’t believe he said that,” said Darcy.

“I can,” said Dawn, “he’s like all guys, he thinks with his dick.”

“He probably thinks we’ll be making out now he’s gone.”

Dawn looked at Darcy, and Darcy looked at Dawn, and both of them started laughing again.

“Men are assholes. Let’s get some breakfast.”

* * * * *

“You really need to talk to Willow if you want some scientific background for magic,” said Buffy, helping herself to more toast. “She starts talking about quantum foam and dimensionality and zero point energy and I kinda tune out. She should be back in a couple of weeks. I know she has a total fan-girl thing for your work, I’m really surprised she hasn’t already found a way to meet up with you, so I’ll make sure it happens.”

“That’d be great,” said Jane. “Do you know if she’s published?”

“Not academically,” said Dawn, “Not where you’d see it, anyway. Some of that stuff is really dangerous; you can kill someone or get yourself sucked into a demon dimension just by saying the wrong words or completing an equation. The Council has its own scholastic press but we have to be very careful about giving access. I think you’d qualify, but you wouldn’t be able to quote any of our sources in anything you write.”

“I can’t say I like that,” said Jane, “but I guess I can see the point.”

Darcy looked up from the Sunday papers and said “Apparently Thor and a group of plucky mutants helped to stop a Hydra terrorist attack yesterday. Plucky mutants?”

“People really don’t like to think about the supernatural,” said Buffy, “mutants are an explanation they sort of understand. I think the British papers generally give them more of a positive spin than we do.”

“Not surprising,” said Darcy, “Magneto’s never paid London a visit, they want it to stay that way.”

“I’ve gotta say you’re taking all this pretty well,” said Dawn, “I guess after all you’ve seen it takes a lot to weird you out.”

“Much of this is known on Asgard,” said Thor. “The creatures you call demons cannot venture there, there are powerful protections, but we have often encountered them on Midgard and occasionally on the other worlds.” He looked at his fork dubiously and added “What beast is this?”

“That’s vegetarian bacon,” said Buffy, “not meat at all, I think it’s made of tofu or mushrooms or something. The real bacon’s under the server to the left of it.”

“Excellent, this is… not to my taste.” He went to take another mound of food.

“Don’t tell Vi that,” said Dawn, “she practically lives on the stuff.”

“Why us?” asked Ian. “Why did Earth get demons and not… oh, the Dark Elves or the Frost Giants?”

“It is said that all other worlds are reflections of Asgard, increasingly dark and distorted. Midgard is the most distant reflection.” At their expressions Thor hastily added “But of course that is probably just a myth.”

Buffy’s phone rang, and she listened for a minute or so then said “That was Giles. The cops traced the Hydra guys back to an old factory in some place called Chiswick. They raided it this morning. They found bugging equipment and tapes, they’ve been watching you guys for months. Jane’s apartment, the offices and labs you’ve been using at the university, even Ian’s boat. And all of your phones and computers were being tapped.”

“I guess we should have seen that coming,” said Darcy. “That’s how they knew we’d be there. Any idea why?”

“Not yet.”

“Then they might still be after us,” Ian said gloomily.

“That’s pretty much a given. Don’t worry, this house is pretty safe.”

* * * * *

Despite the attack, Sunday afternoon saw Little Venice nearly as busy as usual, most of the damage fixed overnight. Giles helped himself to a sample of mango and chilli flavoured sausage, chewed reflectively, and decided to add it to his order. His house usually had a few slayers and other visitors in residence, it was a good idea to keep well stocked up with food.

“If you like that you should try the Jalapeño too.”

“Too hot for me, I’m afraid, but I’m sure my girls would like some.” He lowered his voice and added “Good to see you again, Agent… no, Director… Coulson. I’m pleased that the reports of your demise… and those of your organisation… were somewhat exaggerated.”

“I get that a lot,” said Coulson.

“I’d imagine Nicholas does too.”

Coulson ignored that, and said “Our medical team will be assisting with your friend this evening. We’d like to have someone present when you question him, but I doubt we’ll learn anything really surprising.”

“I’m reasonably sure that he deliberately sabotaged their operation,” said Giles. “The spells that should have concealed the attack made it certain that we’d notice, and that just doesn’t happen accidentally, not for someone of Ethan’s calibre.”

“It’s plausible. But maybe you want it to be true?”

“That’s also plausible. Do you have any idea why they went after Doctor Foster?”

“It wasn’t just Foster,” said Coulson, “they tried for Doctor Selvig too, fortunately the Norwegian authorities were keeping an eye on him and prevented his abduction. As for the motive, DI-5 got it from one of their agents last night. During the Greenwich incident Foster and her friends used a teleportation device. It was allegedly only possible because of the Convergence that led to the invasion, but if that was not the case, Hydra wants the technology.”

“And proving that something isn’t possible is always very difficult.”

“Exactly.”

“Then we’d better keep an eye on all concerned, hadn’t we?”

“You’re offering Council resources?”

“The Council has a long institutional memory,” said Giles, “and Hydra has crossed our path before. Payback would be… satisfying. I’m sure that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” He looked around, and added “I find that these discussions tend to make me thirsty, and it looks like the beer tent is operational again. Shall we?”

“I think that might be a very good idea.”

* * * * *

“I got it!” shrieked Vi, and raised Mjolnir one-handed.

“Now that isn’t fair,” said Buffy, leaning forward in her deck-chair. “I couldn’t shift it an inch. Neither could Dawn, Rona, or any of the others.”

“Mayhap she has Asgardian blood,” said Thor. “My people have visited your world many times.” He raised his voice and added “Have a care!” then winced as the hammer flew across the lawn and smashed an old wooden bench. He raised his hand, and Mjolnir did a U-turn and flew back to him instead of Vi and smacked into his hand. He hung it on his belt.

“I think it’s simpler than that,” said Dawn, rubbing in some sun-block. “Vi really _likes_ being a Slayer, and since she became one she’s totally been focussed on the whole warrior maiden stroke paladin thing; haven’t you seen the characters she plays in _World of Warcraft,_ Buffy? And she’s a natural leader, we send most of the newbie Slayers in Britain out with her when we want to give them some experience. I guess in a past life she was Xena or Joan or something. Most Slayers have more doubts, even Buffy.”

“That makes sense,” said Buffy.

Vi ran over and said “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry too much,” said Dawn, “the bench had woodworm.”

Vi turned to Thor and added “Can I try it again some time?”

“You may try it somewhere less breakable,” said Thor. “It is good to know that there are others who might wield Mjolnir if I fall, but you must be trained to do so safely.”

“Shiny!”

“You’re a _Firefly_ fan?” Darcy said excitedly. “Awesome! And Dawn said you’re into _World of Warcraft_ ; Horde or Alliance?”

They walked off together chatting excitedly. 

“That is possibly the most disturbing thing I’ve seen recently,” said Jane. “They’re so alike it’s scary.”

“So long as the scary is aimed at our enemies I don’t have a problem with that,” said Buffy.

“This is nice,” said Ian, “but we can’t stay here forever.”

“Giles has friends in high places,” said Dawn, “he’ll make sure that the immediate problem goes away. But I guess you’ll always be a target for Hydra and anyone else that doesn’t like the Avengers. We’re just gonna have to make sure that anyone who tries anything ends up regretting it.”

“You may be certain of that,” said Thor. “I will guard my Lady Jane with all my heart and strength.”

“Not just that,” said Buffy. “We’re going to make sure that Hydra rue the day they ever came near her.”

“Why?” Jane asked bluntly, “it isn’t your fight.”

“Payback,” said Buffy.

“Her name was Anni,” Dawn said flatly. “She was the Slayer in the late nineteen-thirties, back when there was only one. She was called at thirteen, in thirty-seven. They caught her helping Jews to escape from Germany in thirty-nine. She died in a Hydra lab in nineteen-forty.”

Buffy closed her eyes and said “I’ve dreamed of her death a couple of times now, so have most of the other Slayers. Now we know why; it was a warning that Hydra was still around. They weren’t just experimenting with weird science, they were into the occult; vampires, demonology, magic, you name it, they tried it.”

“They’ve been on our ‘to-do’ list since SHIELD fell,” said Dawn; “Pretty sure they just made it to the top.”

“Then we shall surely triumph!” said Thor.

“Yeah, but don’t jinx it…”

**Wednesday**

Ethan looked small and frail lying in the hospital bed, his head and eye bandaged. Although they were the same age he seemed much older than Giles.

“It happened about three months ago,” he said. “I fell asleep in my cell, woke up in a hospital bed with bandages around my head. The guards said I’d slipped, fractured my skull when I fell. I believed it at first, then I started to see messages.”

“What did they say?” asked Giles.

“That I’d be released and rewarded if I cooperated, or killed if I didn’t. They also showed me that they could cause pain… rather a lot of pain.”

“Go on.”

“I think that they were going to change records and release me… meanwhile, they wanted me to write down everything I knew about magic.”

“And did you?”

“God, no,” said Ethan. “I gave them the basics, things you might find in _The Golden Bough_ and the other standard texts, said that for anything more advanced I’d need my books and a source of power. So they had me write a shopping list.”

“Including?”

“Oh, nothing of any great use, I assure you. And I was very careful not to write down any of the ways texts are changed and coded to prevent the ignorant from using them.”

“This was before SHIELD was destroyed?” asked the anonymous observer Coulson had sent, an instantly-forgettable man in a dark suit.

“That’s right. It took a while for the news to reach the prison, they weren’t too concerned about little things like civil liberties or keeping us informed, but at that point I’d had the words ‘STAND BY’ in my eye for three fucking days so I knew something had gone pear-shaped. I was hoping my little efforts at sabotage were already bearing fruit, but no such luck. Eventually they started giving me orders again. And quizzing me about Asgard and teleportation, which let me start a few more wild goose chases. I knew that Hydra was in the driving seat…”

“How?”

“They started ending every fucking message with ‘HAIL HYDRA’, of course. Arseholes.”

“If we could continue,” said Giles. “What did they tell you to do?”

“They said that I’d be released and deported, and that I was to begin preparations for a spell that would keep Thor distracted. Originally it was supposed to be at the zoo, some TV appearance, but I told them it would be a non-starter because of all the wards around the place.”

“Wards?” asked the observer.

“The Council installed them at the end of the nineteenth century,” Giles said impatiently, “The zoo was becoming an all-you-can-eat buffet for demons and vampires with exotic tastes. Not to mention all the thefts by wizards who needed animal parts for spells.”

“That’s right,” said Ethan, “that’s what I told the buggers. They told me to stock up to cast spells anyway, they’d give me a location later. I had to think of something so I went after Musgrave’s place, got a grab-bag of gods, and left an obvious trail so you’d know it was me. I knew there’d be something there I could use.”

“Use how?” asked Giles.

“Well cause a bit of trouble, make it look like I was doing what they wanted, and get myself struck by lightning.”

“Why the hell would you want to be struck by lightning?”

“Well, I obviously didn’t know, but I guessed that their equipment worked like a computer. Hit it with enough electricity and Bob’s your uncle. Since I had the Zeus statue I made a point of casting a protective spell on myself, of course, worded it very specifically to protect me but nothing else. All things considered it worked quite well.”

“When did they tell you the target would be the canal event?”

“Just after I’d robbed Musgrave. I told them they were cutting it bloody fine, but it really couldn’t have been better; it gave me an excuse to rush around all over the place casting spells and look like they’d get exactly what they wanted. I even did the concealment spells exactly by the book, except that I hadn’t told them the book didn’t always tell the truth. The hardest part was getting out to that island and casting some real concealment spells without any of the boat people noticing. After that I just had to wait for them to tell me to start casting the spell, and you know what happened then.”

“It’s fortunate that nobody was killed.”

“Not much I could do about that, apart from using a water god when there were plenty of escape routes on land. If they hadn’t used me for this it would have been a bomb in the crowd or something. And I imagine I’d be dead if I hadn’t made a show of cooperating, so forgive me if I don’t get too upset.” He coughed, drank some water, and said “I don’t suppose either of you buggers has some fags?”

Giles said “Sorry – and they won’t let you smoke in here anyway.”

The agent looked confused.

“Fags, lad, cigarettes. Got any?”

“No.”

“That makes things a lot clearer,” said Giles. “Just a few more questions. First, I know you only saw text messages, but did you get any sort of feel for who was on the end of the line?”

“He used American spelling but I don’t think English was his first language, the grammar was sometimes too good. No contractions, that sort of thing.”

“Did you get the impression he was nearby? Why ‘he’, by the way?”

“I don’t think he was. A couple of times he had me look out the window, I’m pretty sure he was checking the weather or the time of day. And I’m not sure why I say ‘he,’ just a feeling.”

“Any time lag?” asked the agent. “Did it take much time to get a response if you wrote a message?”

“Not really. Maybe a few seconds occasionally.”

“Could be almost anywhere then, but probably a human operator, not a computer, that would be a lot slower.”

“Evidently not particularly skilled in magic,” said Giles, “so someone else was probably handling that side of things.”

“That seems about right,” said Ethan, “When that came up the delays were usually longer. Maybe whoever it was had to get someone’s advice. Anything else?”

“Just one thing. What happened to the statue of Diana?”

“Diana? Didn’t I use it for the ‘concealment spell?’” He mimed the quotes.

“No, it’s the only one that’s still missing. Also the most valuable, of course, and the one that has links to the Slayer.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ethan, “I was rushing around so much on Friday, maybe I’ve got a little confused. Now I’m really getting very tired, and I think I might need more painkillers.” He rang the bell by his bed.

“Very well,” said Giles. “But you might want to bear in mind that you now owe an Ano-Movic demon tribe approximately eighty thousand pounds, if we include the statue that was destroyed and damages for the robbery. They’re not usually a violent race, but they have been known to settle divorces by eating the ex-spouses brain; I really have no idea of their attitude to debt collection.”

“I’ll try to remember,” said Ethan, as the nurse arrived.

“Do you believe him?” asked the SHIELD agent.

“About the statue? Not a chance, he’s got it hidden away somewhere, if he hasn’t already fenced it. I think he was telling the truth about the rest.”

“I think you’re right. With what we found in the laboratories and their homes we have some interesting options, I think, if what you told the Director about magic is correct.”

“Trust me,” said Giles, “I’m well ahead of you.”

**Friday**

“Agent Ball, we have some new intelligence on Foster’s research. She’s shredded several pages of equations at the college, the scanner we installed in the department’s shredder captured most of it.”

“Most?”

“Two pages stuck together, we have a very faint image of the second underneath the first. Computer enhancement may reveal more.”

“It’s a shame they found everything inside her office, but I suppose this is better than nothing. Forward the data to Technical Base eleven, and work on getting some microphones and cameras placed again. Hail Hydra!”

“Hail Hydra!”

**Monday**

“This is very puzzling, doctor Schneider. It obviously means something, but I’m having trouble making sense of it.”

“Let me see… hmmm… I think this is a very precise description of a nine- dimensional spatial fold, but these symbols are… well, read it for yourself.”

“It’s meaningless. _‘Crv dr pff lr ploos pls. Vos strp umpt pls plsrts in uft frm pltz…’_ Gibberish!”

There was a sudden roaring noise, and a vortex opened and began to suck in everyone and everything in the laboratory. After that it started on the rest of the building.

**Wednesday**

It had taken Ethan nearly a week to get what he wanted; a packet of cigarettes, some matches, and access to a guarded roof where he could sit outdoors for a while. He sat in his wheelchair, lit a cigarette, and, apparently casually, took the metal foil from the packet and began to twist it into a tiny horned head, murmuring “Master of Chaos, your humble servant implores your aid.”

“I have suffered at the hands of the forces of Order, I am their captive, yet I continue to serve you. I offer you this gift of fire;” he struck another match; “I offer you this gift of pain;” he touched the match to his arm, where once there had been a tattoo, and held it there as a blister formed; “I offer the gift of hidden treasure; I am, always and forever, your humble and obedient servant.”

The tinfoil head opened its eyes, looked at him, and grinned. And suddenly Ethan and the wheelchair were gone.

* * * * *

Ethan stared around the gigantic throne room, and at the bearded one-eyed man who stood watching him, a raven on his shoulder. He murmured “Well… this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“Ethan Rayne… You attacked my son in the name of Chaos. Why should I not destroy you?”

“Your son can take it,” said Ethan, summoning the little dignity he could, “I am Chaos’s obedient servant, and I will not apologise for my nature.”

“Even if it means your life?”

“No. Do your worst.”

“Excellent.”

As Ethan gaped at him the bearded figure morphed and changed, became thinner and younger, clean-shaven, wearing green and a horned helmet.

“My Lord. I would kneel if I could, but for the moment I am confined to this chair.”

“I am sure that you will walk soon enough,” said Loki, “if you are to be of use to me. Now, you mentioned a gift?”

“A statuette of the goddess Diana, nearly two thousand years old. It's small but beautiful, and still possesses some magical power. I had to hide it on Midgard, but I’m sure that it would be possible to retrieve it…”

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:** Anni is described in the _Tales of the Slayers_ graphic collection. Her arrest and death aren't described, but seem plausible. The story is entitled _Sonnenblume_ (Sunflower) and that is given as her surname in the Buffy Wiki; I’m not sure if it is her surname or a nickname.
> 
> The words used to open the portal originally appeared in _Angel_ Episode #41: _"Belonging,"_ where they opened the way to Pylea. I’m guessing that portals can be made to go to much worse places.
> 
> The ritual used by Ethan was in part inspired by _Eight Days of Luke_ by Diana Wynne Jones.


End file.
